


Sauerbraten

by MissLit



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannigram - Freeform, Homophobic Language, M/M, Post Season 3, Sexual Content, Spoilers, possible future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6332503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLit/pseuds/MissLit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall, everyone was certain Will and Hannibal were dead. Unfortunately for Will, Hannibal has chosen him for his new traveling companion. Meanwhile, Jack Crawford has learned that they survived and is desperate to find them before Hannibal gets bored with Will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rouladen

**Author's Note:**

> Rouladen is a traditional German dish comprised of rolade onions, bacon, pickles and mustard. The meat used can be anything from beef to pork but began its culinary life typically prepared with venison.

“I have always wanted to visit Japan,” Hannibal was saying, wiping his knife delicately along his fork. Once it was clean, he brought the forkful of food to his lips, chewing it slowly. Swallowing, he gave Will a smile. “Although, I assumed I would do so with Chiyoh.”

Will took a bite of his own food, grateful that for once Hannibal had not prepared the dish. The very thought settled his stomach and he was able to eat without gagging for the first time in months. Hannibal didn’t comment, but Will knew he was wounded by this. Slowing his movements to try and appear less appealed by the food, Will finally nodded, though he didn’t look him in the eye.

After a moment, Hannibal continued, “Or perhaps we can go to Russia instead. It is a bit close to home for my liking, but it is a big enough country.”

The German countryside was whipping past them, the rest of the dining car fading away. They had a private car, but they’d had to leave it to eat. The first few times they’d done something similar, Will had been tempted to scream for help. He had the feeling that even if he were bold enough Hannibal would silence him before a sound even left him. All he could do, then, was try to catch the other passengers’ eyes and hope someone would recognize him.

No one ever did.

“Will?”

He turned back to Hannibal. He hadn’t been realizing he was looking out the window. Instead of looking in his companion’s eyes, he stared up at his eyebrows. It was a good way to trick people into thinking you were looking at them.  It seemed to appease Hannibal at least.

“You’ve been so quiet. Are you quite well?” Hannibal leaned forward, pointing his fork at the meal before him. “I had hoped they would have your favorite. Unfortunately, they were limited. If it isn’t to your liking, I’ll have it sent back. You know how I am with food.”

Will glanced down at his plate of rouladen and potato dumplings. It honestly tasted heavenly, even if there was still the mild fear that something was wrong with it. He hadn’t watched them prepare it, but that was almost better. He always watched Hannibal prepare their meals. Oftentimes he was made to assist.

“It’s fine,” Will decided, shooting Hannibal a practiced smile. “Although… It isn’t nearly as good as one of yours.”

Satisfied with the response, Hannibal leaned back against his seat, smiling. “Once we’re settled,” he promised, “I’ll be sure to begin preparations for some sauerbraten. It will take several days, but I promise you it is well worth the wait.”

“And I’m sure it will be divine,” Will replied, holding his glass of beer up.

Hannibal’s smile widened and he returned the gesture with his wine glass. “Shall we make a toast?” Will nodded. He knew exactly what to toast to; his last act of bitter defiance.

“To the deaths of Doctor Hannibal Lecter and Mister William Graham,” he decidedly said. He could see the corner of Hannibal’s mouth twitched, though he couldn’t tell if it was in annoyance or amusement. “May they rest in pieces at the bottom of the ocean. 

“ _Prost_ ,” Hannibal replied, tipping his glass against Will’s.

* * *

 

Jack Crawford was a man wrecked with guilt. As Molly had pointed out several times, Will’s death was completely on his shoulders.  He’d been the one to insist he come back not once but twice. He’d agreed to Will’s plan of faking Hannibal’s escape, which lead to Will’s kidnapping. Without Will’s guidance, even if they were alive, it would be impossible to find the psychopath before Will was devoured. He didn’t want to give up, but…

Packing away the last of his papers, Jack pulled out tape to close the box. After Hannibal’s escape, both himself and Dr. Bloom had been forced to resign their posts. She and her wife had fled; they were in hiding now somewhere. Jack was less afraid of what Hannibal would do to him. He’d faced down the man before, he’d even managed to catch him off guard once. But that didn’t mean he could do it again.

What did Jack have left, anyway? His wife, beautiful Bella, was gone. She had been for several years. Even if Will weren’t presumed dead, he wouldn’t be speaking to Jack at the moment. While he had sympathy from his department, Jack knew they also placed the blame for the incident on him, like Molly had.

Molly, for her part, had gone into protective services with her son, only after a small funeral with no body. Jack had gone, though he hadn’t been invited, but if she was angry she didn’t say. After the burial, he’d approached her as she stared down at the empty grave covered with flowers and fresh dirt.

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” he’d said. “ _I know… It’s… This wouldn’t have happened if I had just…_ ” Falling silent, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“ _I hope he actually_ is _dead, Jack,_ ” Molly breathed, a few stray tears slipping down her cheeks. “ _I really do. Because the alternative is too awful to think about._ ”

She’d buried an empty casket not as a way to grieve but as a hope he was really gone. If Will were dead, he couldn’t be killed by Hannibal. If he were dead, there was a reason he hadn’t come home.

Sighing, Jack took a moment to scan his office for any loose items. Nothing of note, just a few dust bunnies under the chairs and some books his predecessor had left for him. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with himself now. He knew one thing; he wasn’t willing to sit at home and wait for news about Hannibal and Will. It was time to move on.

A knock came at his door as he was grabbing the first few boxes. “Come in,” he grunted, setting them down.

A young woman entered – Stacy, he recalled – holding a pile of letters. “These are for you, Sir,” she said, holding them out to him.

“No, ma’am, they are not,” Jack answered, shrugging. “Those are for my replacement.” This wasn’t surprising, he got piles of letters daily as the head of behavioral sciences.

“Oh, okay,” she replied, flipping through the letters. “Let me just make sure…”

Doubtful, Jack turned back to his box. “Just put them on the desk, they’ll be in shortly to get the office in order.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but this one looks like a personal letter,” Stacy admitted, holding it out to him. “It’s addressed to you directly.”

A shudder went through Jack before he realized why. Slowly, he turned and took the letter in his hand. It was heavy cardstock, not a flimsy condolence card like he’d gotten some time ago. Jack swallowed, slowly turning to read the front.

There it was, his name in familiar swirling letters. He’d never forget that handwriting until the day he died. “Stacy,” he breathed. “Get me a plastic bag and some gloves.” Though she looked confused, she didn’t argue as she rushed out of the room, still holding the rest of the pile. As Jack waited, he slowly put the letter down, backing away as though it were going to explode. There was no doubt now.

Hannibal Lecter was still alive.


	2. Sauerbraten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will are settling into their new life. Meanwhile, Jack finds a place to start his search.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sauerbraten is a marinated roast which takes between three and ten days to prepare. Typically, it is left to brine in either wine or vinegar, followed by a combination of herbs, seasonings and water. Any meat can be used, but it is traditionally prepared with horse.

Jimmy and Brian had personally come to meet Jack in the labs. He knew what it meant for them to be there so soon after leaving. They were hard at work on the envelope and its contents when he came down to the lab to check on their progress. He'd been getting antsy. Staying far enough from the table so as not to contaminate the evidence, Jack peered over into their space. “How’s it looking?” he asked.

“As we expected, fingerprints are a match,” Jimmy answered, swiveling a computer screen to show Jack the analysis. “But not to who you would expect.”

It took a moment for the side-by-side comparison to sink in. “Will’s?” Jack asked, reading the name another time just to be sure.

Brian and Jimmy nodded eagerly, grinning. “He’s alive somewhere, Jack, all we have to do is find him,” Brian insisted before eagerly leading Jack to another tray. “Luckily for us Hannibal left us with quite a bit to work with.” He typed a few commands into the computer, Jack coming up behind him to see better. “The postcard is from the north of France, specifically of a vineyard up there. We were able to use the address and the copyright information from the back to find the city. A few phone calls and we can have INTERPOL working on the case in no time.”

“But the letter was postmarked a few days ago,” Jack pointed out. “They wouldn’t be in France anymore.”

“Maybe not, but it’s pretty likely where he’ll be headed,” Jimmy insisted, coming up beside them.

Jack looked down at the postcard then back up at the map Brian had brought up. He was right. There was nowhere else Hannibal would go if he had gotten that far. The problem was, it was a big place and he was probably still on the move. “Then I’d better get going, hadn’t I?” he murmured, turning to head out of the room.

The front of the card showed a sweeping landscape, a beautiful vineyard in with the words ‘ _Salutations de France_!’ across the front.

“Is he really going to go to France to go looking for Will?” Brian asked, quirking an eyebrow as Jack left.

Picking up the postcard, Jimmy shook his head. “They wouldn’t be there anymore, but it’s as good a place as any to start.” He flipped the card over, looking over the carefully chosen words for the hundredth time. “They’re definitely in Germany by now…”

In Hannibal’s beautiful scrawl along the back of the postcard was written, “Wish you were here,” signed by both Will and Hannibal himself.

* * *

 

Over the last few months, killing had become second nature. None of the chosen victims on their travels were ever as difficult or feisty as the Dragon had been. Will almost wished they were, but it was easier to take care of them this way.

He held the stranger by his throat, arm slowly squeezing the air out of his esophagus as Hannibal approached. Most times Will didn’t know why they were killing them. Today was special.

“I’ve met my fair share of radicals,” Hannibal was saying, pulling a knife from his coat pocket. “It’s strange that there would be any here in Germany, after so many years attempting to erase the hurt that Adolf Hitler caused.” He came close, the man in Will’s arms trembling. Hannibal’s smile was too warm.

“Tell me again… What you called my dear Will,” he insisted, holding the knife to the stranger’s cheek. Will knew this was his queue to let up on his throat, but did so reluctantly. He’d rather not listen to his pleading.

“ _Bitte, der Herr,_ ” he choked out, coughing and sputtering. He greedily took in gulping breaths of air, adding, “ _Bitte…_ _Töte mich nicht._ ”

Hannibal hummed, sliding the blade quickly over his cheek. Will could see some of the hair from his cheek floating away to the ground. In another life Hannibal could have made a great barber.

“ _Warum sollte ich nicht?_ ” Hannibal asked before switching back to English. “Come now… You said quite a naughty thing earlier today, I wish for you to repeat it so dear William knows what exactly he is doing.” The man whimpered for a moment, shaking his head. “You know what I’m saying, don’t you?” Hannibal demanded, suddenly grasping a handful of his hair. “ _Sprich jetzt!”_

Will shifted his grip on his wrists. It was hard to hold them sometimes, it made his hands ache. His eyes were dull as he watched Hannibal. After a few moments more, the man suddenly cried out, “ _Faggot_!” It took a moment for the word to sink in, but when it did Will’s grip tightened. “I-I called him… That. I called him a faggot. P-please. I d-d-did not mean to cause offense.” Though his accent was thick, Will understood every word. His head was spinning.

“No?” Hannibal murmured, suddenly calm again. “How fortunate for you.”

Before Hannibal could move, Will brought his hands up and snapped the man’s neck. He didn’t let out a sound, suddenly his body was dropping to the cobbled stone alleyway. Will was staring at his handiwork a moment before he looked back up at Hannibal. “Oops.”

Slowly, Hannibal put his knife away before grasping Will’s wrist, pulling him close. Will stepped over the body, sliding in close to Hannibal’s chest. “You know you really shouldn’t do that,” he murmured, brushing a finger down Will’s face. “It’s bad for the meat.”

“You were angry,” Will whispered. “I didn’t want you to do something rash here, we still have to get him up to the apartment.”

“Too right. I think we can manage with this,” Hannibal admitted, pushing their victim with his foot to test his weight. “Mm… It may be a struggle. It’s good no one is home but us. Shall we?”

* * *

 

Preservation was key with Hannibal. Bedelia had known that well, but she never shared her tactics with Will. He’d had to come up with his own. Fortunately, he had a leg up on Bedelia when it came to their cannibalistic friend; Hannibal was in love with Will.

By the time of the fall, it was incredibly obvious. Will had spent so long denying it their final moments seemed almost dreamlike. He hadn’t been able to trust her words, even though he’d asked the question. “ _Is Hannibal in love with me?_ ” He hardly remembered the answer, it felt so long ago.

As they traveled, Will gave in. Hannibal really was charming and sweet when he wanted to be. It was better to be getting flowers from him than scars. They traveled as a couple now, while at first they made up all kinds of awkward lies about being traveling companions. When they’d finally given in and slept together, there was no point in denying it. They might as well have told the truth in the midst of all their lies.

“There now,” Hannibal was saying as they finished their hard work. “That should brine nicely, and in ten days we shall have ourselves a traditional German dinner. Just like I promised.”

Will offered him a smile. He had to be careful with those. Too many seemed disingenuous. Too many and Hannibal wondered if something was wrong. And they couldn’t be too wide or too small, though it depended on the situation. He’d come to know what kind of smile was an appropriate response for what kind of comment quicker than he thought.

Even after three years without him, Will never really forgot what Hannibal wanted.

“What will you treat me with tonight?” he asked, stepping closer and running his hands over Hannibal’s shoulders. The copper stench of blood was making him dizzy, but he found he liked it more and more. “This is the only bit of meat we have on hand,” he added.

Sliding his hands over Will’s waist, Hannibal leaned in, brushing their lips together. “Oh… That isn’t true, Will,” he purred. “There’s always _you_.”

His façade faltered. Just for a moment. Hannibal smirked; he could feel Will’s pulse quicken, could practically smell the heady fear on him. Despite what Will thought of their relationship, Hannibal Lecter always had the upper hand. These little comments were a way of reminding him of that.

“But you’re not ready,” Hannibal insisted, giving Will a peck before pulling away. “No, not for a very long time. And if you’re good, maybe never. We shall see.” He passed Will by, ignoring how his lover now stood stock still, facing their prey. “Do lock up after me, will you dear?” he called, leaving the freezer.


	3. Bienenstich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal get domestic and finally discuss their eating arrangements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweet German dessert made from yeast dough, filled with custard and topped with caramelized almonds, bienenstich is also known as Bee Sting Cake.

Sex had never held the same appeal for Hannibal as it seemed to for others. It had its charms, but never felt quite right. Perhaps the solution to his problem was that he’d been doing it with the wrong type of person for too long. Here, with Will, things were different.

“I’ve been saving the Kama Sutra positions for someone special,” Hannibal explained, stripping out of his clothes. Will was lying in bed, pointedly reading. He liked to tease, the naughty boy. Licking his lips, Hannibal dropped his boxer briefs and slid into bed beside him. “Have you ever tried the Kama Sutra?” he asked, trying to be coy.

Hannibal never had been good at it.

“No, I haven’t,” Will replied, shifting to face away just a touch. He was much better at this.

“They are a bit physically taxing,” Hannibal admitted, shifting closer until his leg was touching Will’s. “Of course… That would be no problem for the two of us. We’re reasonably in shape, hm?”

Will didn’t resist as Hannibal snaked his arm around his waist. He barely reacted as his lover leaned down, pressing insistent kisses along his neck. “Will,” he breathed, voice heavy with need. With a huff of annoyance, Will placed a bookmark to his page and set it aside, leaning into Hannibal’s grip. As per usual, Hannibal had gotten his way.

He and Bedelia had never slept together. He’d never felt a need to. Sex had been used to manipulate, to tantalize, and to gain power over another, and he already had all those things when they’d left the country. Certainly they’d shared a bed, but she tried her best to avoid touching him. Now that Hannibal really thought about it, he doubted they’d kissed though he couldn’t for the life of him recall.

Will leaned over to press a few chaste kisses to Hannibal’s lips, sitting up on his knees so he could slide out of his boxers. The moment his bottom was exposed, Hannibal’s hands were on it, kneading and squeezing. Gasping, Will leaned forward into his chest, struggling to work the garment off the rest of the way.

At times, Hannibal couldn’t tell whether Will liked sleeping with him or not. It seemed like he did, especially when he made such beautiful noises. But other times, when there was a quiet moment between them and Will was sure he wouldn’t be punished, his expression would go dark. He looked as though he were thinking murderous thoughts. That was fine. The more the better.

“Do you want to?” Hannibal murmured, bringing Will’s tee shirt over his head before he had a response.

“Yes,” Will grumbled. He always said yes. Hannibal captured him in a kiss, lying him down as he got to work.

He’d heard once somewhere an anecdote about cannibals giving filatio. If he recalled correctly it had something to do with trust. Kissing his way down Will’s stiff form he couldn’t help himself from smirking as he remembered it. Will didn’t trust him, he knew that, but Hannibal wasn’t so crass as to take a bite while he was uncooked. At the very least Will knew _that_.

Airy, sweet sounds of pleasure filled their shared room, and Hannibal reveled in them. He could play Will like a harpsicord, he knew every key by heart and a symphony of sound came from his lover whenever he took his place to play. Even if Will didn’t love him, he had to love what he could do. In the end that was all that mattered in sex.

* * *

 

“How long do you think it will be until Jack gets here?”

Hannibal glanced at Will, confused. They rarely spoke after coitus. For the most part Will went to bed, Hannibal showered, and that was that. Of course, he had to be wondering about that postcard they’d sent just before leaving France. “I can’t say that I know,” he replied, rubbing his hand over Will’s bare shoulder. “Do you think he can find us without you?”

Grunting in response, Will didn’t sound convinced. Hannibal settled behind him with a chuckle, pulling Will into his arms and giving his cheek a tender kiss. “What are you up to?” Will whispered, causing Hannibal to stay his hand.

“How do you mean?” he murmured. A few kisses were placed on Will’s shoulder.

“You never do this… Why are you doing it now?” Will clarified.

It was an interesting question. Pulling Will to his chest, Hannibal breathed against the shell of his ear, “I am being domestic. Is that not what lovers do?” Will didn’t reply. “We’ve run away together; we have a nice apartment in Europe. It’s a dream, don’t you think?”

Will frowned, turning his face away into the pillow. “Except for murdering and eating people, yes, a perfect dream.”

“Isn’t that part of it?” Hannibal purred. “The thrill… You cannot honestly say you don’t like it at this point, William, it’s too late to deny it now.”

A long silence passed between them before Will started to move. He shifted and twisted his body until he was facing Hannibal, giving him a hard look. “I don’t like eating people,” he said, voice clear and firm.

Momentarily taken aback, Hannibal asked, “Don’t you?”

“No. I don’t. It makes me sick to my stomach.”

A smirk quirked Hannibal’s lip. “Is it because, perhaps, you see them as _people_ and not _meat_. I had thought by now you would notice that I make that distinction.”

“I did a few times,” Will admitted, looking away. His chin was gripped in firm fingers and he was forced to look back into Hannibal’s eyes. This close he couldn’t pretend; he _had_ to look. “It makes me sick to my stomach,” he muttered.

The comment was dangerously close to insulting. Hannibal gave Will’s chin a squeeze to warn him. “What about it makes you sick?” he demanded, playfulness gone. One never questioned his cooking. Despite eating rude people he prided himself on making them into something surprisingly delectable. The fact that his lover was suddenly turning his nose up to his art was damn near infuriating.

Will’s heartbeat quickened. “You know how some people can’t eat pork? They just don’t like it,” Hannibal relaxed his grip. “I just don’t… Like human. I tried, I really did. Your cooking helped… But I just can’t eat it anymore. Or at least, I need a bit of a break.”

Nodding, Hannibal replied, “One should never eat too much of a good thing. I understand. What would you prefer instead?”

“Fish,” Will answered, quickly. “I… I miss fishing. And eating fish.”

“Of course you would,” Hannibal sighed. Despite his mild frustration he had a small smile on his lips. Leaning in, he rewarded Will with a kiss or two before lying back again. “Tomorrow we shall get you a fishing license and find someplace to go. We can go on a trip while the sauerbraten sours.”

It was more than Will could have hoped for. “Thank you,” he said, hesitating before he moved closer to Hannibal, planting his lips on the other man’s. His captor melted into the kiss, placing a hand on Will’s side. Tilting his head, Will deepened it, even allowing Hannibal to slide his tongue into his mouth before pulling back, panting.

“My, my,” Hannibal cooed. “How you’ve opened to me, William…”

“Thank you for listening,” Will whispered, slowly lying back down against Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal squeezed his shoulder in return as Will drifted off into an uneasy sleep.


	4. Maultasche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finds some interesting information about Hannibal's relationship with Will and decides to consult someone for help interpreting this clue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A German dish similar to ravioli, maultasche are larger filled pasta dough consisting of smoked and minced meat with bread crumbs, spinach and onions. It is often served during Lenten time despite the fact that it is meat-filled; this is because the pasta covering supposedly shields the meat from the eyes of God.

Officially, Jack wasn’t on the case yet. Although officially there wasn’t a case there. Jack and his team had called up INTERPOL as suggested, but there just wasn’t enough for anyone to go off of to mount a full investigation in Germany. As far as they were concerned, Hannibal was still in France. Or, rather, Will was in France. There was no evidence yet to suggest that Hannibal was with him. Jack, of course, knew better, and he knew that the note was an open invitation for him to go find them.

It was a sick game of hide and seek now. Jack was counting down the seconds, racing to find Hannibal’s hiding place before Will became dinner.

The INTERPOL officer assigned to the case was less than helpful. He’d gotten the postcard and all the forensic evidence the FBI could get from it and sent it to his own lab. Barely a word passed between he and Jack; it was clear this was seen unimportant.

Jack really couldn’t blame him. He’d seen first-hand what Hannibal Lecter could do to a man who stood in his way. Rinaldo Pazzi had paid the ultimate price trying to bring Hannibal down; another death Jack felt personally responsible for. Had he worked harder to talk Pazzi out of his poor decision… Well, it was done now.

Despite the lack of support from the officers he’d met with in France, Jack had been able to find quite a bit of information on his own. Taking the suggestion from Jimmy and Brian he’d gone to the small city that hosted the vineyard from the postcard. It didn’t take long to find the shop that it had been purchased in and from there the hotel they’d stayed in.

“You’re sure they were here?” he was asking the woman at the front desk.

“ _Oui_ , I recognize them. They said they were a couple on holiday,” she explained, nodding as she studied the photos. “I thought, such a shame two handsome men like this were with one another.”

The commentary gave Jack pause. “They said they were a couple?” he questioned, frowning.

“ _Mais oui_ , yes,” she said again, pointed at Hannibal’s photo. “He said this to me, while they were checking in.”

“Do you know what names they checked in under?” Jack asked. “Better yet, do you have copies of their passports?”

“I believe we do, let me go see,” she replied, hurrying into the back room. He could hear her speaking in rapid French as the door shut, clearly explaining the situation to the hotel owner.

It was odd that such a small place would keep photocopies of passports, but Jack was grateful. It was possibly because they were so close to the boarder. Better safe than sorry.

What she said about them, though, had struck him. While she was getting the information he needed, Jack pulled out his cell phone. Good service, surprisingly. Flipping through his contacts he dialed a number he’d never expected to use.

After four rings, he answered.

“Jack Crawford,” Frederick Chilton greeted, his voice strained. “To what do I owe the pleasure at this ungodly hour?”

Right. It was close to five in the morning in Baltimore. “Sorry for the intrusion, Doctor Chilton, I can call back at another time.”

“Oh no,” Chilton answered. Jack could hear the rustling of sheets. “I was just about to get up for rounds anyway.” Though he could hear the sarcasm dripping from every word, Jack didn’t get the chance to respond as Chilton added, “And of course… This will be about Dr. Lecter.”

“Right you are,” Jack sighed, turning to lean against the vacant hotel counter.

There was a long pause between them. Jack could hear Chilton’s labored breathing and felt a pang of guilt tighten his chest. After the attack from the Dragon, Chilton had been hospitalized with severe burns. Now he was only just starting to recover properly and was going through physical therapy. His lungs had been badly damaged by the fire as well, and they were talking about giving him an oxygen tank.  He looked monstrous, Jack had gone to see him once before his official retirement. At least now he had lips. They didn’t fit his face quite right, and combined with the injuries left him by the bullet wound he’d gotten and his missing organs, the poor man was an absolute wreck.

Still, a wreck who was very willing to give his professional opinion on psychopaths.

“So… What is it you’d like to know about him?” Chilton hummed.

Jack sucked in a breath before saying, “I’ve found out they’re alive. Both Hannibal _and_ Will Graham.”

Chilton let out a laugh which devolved into violent coughing. When he’d recovered, he choked out, “I suppose… That’s not too surprising. No bodies were found but the Red Dragon’s…” Chilton had taken to referring to him as that ever since he was attacked. The Tooth Fairy name, it seems, had finally died.

“You’re right, that’s not the surprising part.”

Silence fell again before Chilton softly asked, “Then what exactly is?”

“It seems that Hannibal is passing Will off as his lover,” Jack said, not waiting to hear Chilton’s reaction. “In the same way he did to Bedelia when he took her to Italy. What can you tell me about the way Hannibal sees Will?” He hoped the answer to the question would tell him just how much time he had to find them. If Hannibal actually thought of him as a lover, he might have had more time to find them. But if, like Bedelia, he was just savoring the torment until he could feast on Will, then he didn’t have much time at all.  

Shifting on his starchy hospital bed, Chilton mulled over this question. There was an awful lot he could say about Hannibal and Will’s relationship. “Well… From what I remember about Hannibal’s time in the State Hospital, he didn’t talk much about Will. Then again, most didn’t want to talk to him at all.”

Jack let out a frustrated sound. “You wrote a whole _book_ about him, Dr. Chilton, you talked with him and ate with him while he was there, you more than anyone _know_ Hannibal Lecter.”

“Better than almost anyone,” Chilton corrected. “I believe Will Graham knows him the very best. There’s a reason for that, but it’s difficult to completely explain.”

“Try me,” Jack challenged. He was beginning to lose his patience.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Chilton relented. “The way Hannibal talked about Will was… The same way that someone would talk about their spouse. No, it was… More intimate than that. But also loving, as loving as Hannibal could possibly be.

“He didn’t talk much about Will, as I said, but the little he did say was like that. Will would come up naturally in conversation and suddenly Hannibal would begin a sonnet of sorts describing his hair, his clothes, the way he always smelled.” Chilton took another breather before adding, “Everything in painstaking detail, as though Will Graham were standing right in the room with us.”

Swallowing, Jack shifted the grip of his phone in his hands. Had he not noticed at all? He’d been around Will and Hannibal at the same time, but now that he thought of it only for a few dinners. Most of his interactions had been separately. When he was with Hannibal, he rarely spoke of Will unless it was to express concern over Jack pushing him too hard. On the other hand, all Will had a tendency to talk about was Hannibal.

“Do you think it’s possible,” he asked, carefully choosing his words, “That the two of them ran away together on purpose?”

Chilton chuckled, leading to another short bought of coughing. “Mm… Frankly, I’m not at all shocked to hear Hannibal and Will are passing as lovers. They could have done that before they left the States.” He paused, and when he spoke again his voice was suddenly harsher. “Will Graham, for as much as you’d hate to believe it, is just as cruel as Hannibal is. I know what he did to me, he and Dr. Bloom. They did it on purpose.”

Jack looked up as the check-in woman came back. “I know your feelings toward them, and I can’t blame you. Thank you for your help, Doctor, but I have to go now.”

“Before you go, Jack,” Chilton interrupted, voice suddenly back to its dry sarcastic lilt, “I’d like to ask you about Bedelia.”

A tense silence fell. “… We haven’t found anything relating to her disappearance yet,” Jack admitted.

“So she’s not with them. Well, Jack, I think you have your answer then,” Chilton snickered. “Good luck with the investigation.”

The line suddenly went dead.


End file.
